Phantom of the Opera
by Scarlet deVillain
Summary: So I'm a fan of Hetalia, and I think the book 'The Phantom of the Opera' is really, really good and it's best to describe the relationship between Austria, Hungary and Prussia. I just put the characters name into the fanfic and edit some spots, completely not gonna write anything new (OK, maybe I will, depends on where the story goes). Hope you will enjoy! Don't forget to comment.
1. The dancers

'Quick! Quick! Close the door! It's him!' Bella Maes (Belgium) ran into the dressing-room, her face was white. One of the girls ran and closed the door, and then they all turned to Bella Maes.

'Who? Where? What's the matter?' they cried.

'It's the ghost!' Bella said. 'In the passage. I saw him. He came through the wall in front of me! And...and I saw his face!'

Most of the girls were afraid, but one of them, a tall girl with white hair (Belarus), laughed. 'Pooh!' she said. 'Everybody says they see the Opera ghost, but there isn't really a ghost. You saw a shadow on the wall.' But she did not open the door, or look into the passage.

'Lots of people see him,' a second girl said. 'Joseph Buquet saw him two days ago. Don't you remember?' Then all the girls began to talk at once.

'Joseph says the ghost is tall and he wears a black evening coat.'

'He has the head of a dead man, with a yellow face and no nose...'

'...And no eyes - only black holes!'

Then little Lilli Zwingli (Liechtenstein) spoke for the first time. 'Don't talk about him. He doesn't like it. My mother told me.'

'Your mother?' the girl with white hair said. 'What does your mother know about the ghost?'

'She says that Joseph Buquet is a fool. The ghost doesn't like people talking about him, and one day Joseph Buquet is going to be sorry, very sorry.'

'But what does your mother know? Tell us, tell us!' all the girls cried.

'Oh dear!' said Lilli. 'But please don't say a word to know my mother is the doorkeeper for some of the boxes in the Opera House. Well, Box 5 is the ghost's box! He watches the operas from that box, and sometimes he leaves flowers for my mother!'

'The ghost has a box! And leaves flowers in it!'

'Oh, Lilli, your mother's telling you stories! How can the ghost have a box?'

'It's true, it's true, I tell you!' Lilli said. 'Nobody buys tickets for Box 5, but the ghost always comes to it on opera nights.'

'So somebody does come there?'

'Why, no! The ghost comes, but there is nobody there.'

The dancers looked at Lilli. 'But how does your mother know?' one of them asked.

'There's no man in a black evening coat, with a yellow face. That's all wrong. My mother never sees the ghost in Box 5, but she hears him! He talks to her, but there is nobody there! And he doesn't like people talking about him!'

But that evening the dancers could not stop talking about the Opera ghost. They talked before the opera, all through the opera, and after the opera. But they talked very quietly, and they looked behind them before they spoke.

When the opera finished, the girls went back to their dressing-room. Suddenly, they heard somebody in the passage, and Madame Zwingli, Lilli's mother, ran into the room. She was a fair, motherly woman, with a red, happy face. But tonight her face was white.

'Oh girls.' she cried. 'Joseph Buquet is dead! You know he works a long way down, on the fourth floor under the stage. The other stage workers found his dead body there an hour ago - with a rope around his neck!'

'It's the ghost!' cried Lilli Zwingli. 'The ghost killed him!'


	2. The directors of the Opera House

The Opera House was famous, and the directors of the Opera House were very important men. It was the first week of work for the two new directors, Mr Arthur Kirkland (England) and Monsieur Francis Bonnefoy (France). In the directors' office the next day, the two men talked about Joseph Buquet.

'It was an accident,' Mr Arthur grumbled. 'Or Buquet killed himself.'

'An accident? Killed himself?' Monsieur Francis said in a serious tone, but kept on his face a soft smile. 'Which story do you want, mon ami? Or do you want the story of the ghost?'

'Don't talk to me about ghosts!' Mr Arthur said. 'We have 1,500 people working for us in this Opera House, and everybody is talking about the ghost. This is madness! I don't want to hear about the ghost, OK?'

Monsieur Francis looked at a letter on the table next to him. 'And what are we going to do about this letter, Arthur?'

'Do?' said Mr Arthur sarcastically. 'Why, do nothing, of course! What can we do?'

The two men read the letter again. It wasn't very long.

To the new directors.

 _Because you are new in the Opera House, I am writing to tell you some important things. Never sell tickets for Box 5; that is my box for every opera night. Madame Zwingli, the doorkeeper, knows all about it. Also, I need money for my work in the Opera House. I am not expensive, and I am happy to take only 20,000 euros a month. That is all. But please remember, I can be a good friend, but a bad enemy._

 _O.G._

'Don't sell tickets for Box 5! 20,000 euros a month!' Mr Arthur was losing his patience. 'That's the best box in the Opera House, and we need the money, Francis. And who is this O.G., huh? Tell me that.'

'Opera ghost, of course,' Monsieur Francis said. 'But you're right, Arthur. We can do nothing about this letter. It's a joke, a bad joke. Somebody thinks we are fools, because we are new here. There are no ghosts in the Opera House.'

The two men then talked about the opera for that night. It was Faust, and usually Chiara Vargas (Nyo!Romano) sang Margarita. Chiara was an Italian, and the best singer in Europe. But today, Chiara was ill.

'Everybody in Europe is going to be at the opera tonight,' said Mr Arthur, 'and our best singer is ill. Suddenly! She writes a letter to us just this morning - she is ill, she cannot sing tonight.'

'Don't get angry again, Arthur,' Monsieur Francis said quickly. 'We have Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary), that young singer from Hungary. She can sing Margarita tonight. She has a good voice.'

'But she's so young, and nobody knows her! Nobody wants to listen to a new singer.'

'Wait and see. Perhaps Héderváry can sing better than Vargas. Who knows?'


	3. Elizabeta Héderváry

Monsieur Francis was right (and was now putting on a proud smile while stroking his hair). All Europe talked about the new Margarita in Faust, the girl with the beautiful voice, the girl with the voice of an angel. People loved her. They laughed and cried and called for more. Héderváry was wonderful, the best singer in the world!

Behind the stage EliseZwingli looked at Laura Maes. 'Elizabeta Héderváry never sang like that before,' she said to Bella. 'Why was she so good tonight?'

'Perhaps she's got a new music teacher,' Laura said. The noise in the Opera House went on for a long time. In Box 14, Count Ludwig Edelstein (Germany. Sorry guys, because no other guys are close to Austria as Germany) turned to his older brother and asked:

'Well, Roderich, what did you think of Héderváry tonight?'

Viscount Roderich Edelstein (Austria) was twenty-one years old. He had violet eyes and brown hair, and a wonderful smile. The Edelstein family was old and rich, and many girls in Europe were in love with the young Viscount. But Roderich was not interested in them.

He smiled at his brother. 'What can I say? Elizabeta is an angel, that's all. I'm going to her dressing-room to see her tonight.'

Ludwig smiled. He was one year younger than Roderich, but was more like an older brother rather than a younger one.

'Ah, I understand,' he said. 'You are in love. But this is your first night in this city, your first visit is the opera. How do you know Elizabeta Héderváry?'

'You remember four years ago, when I was on holiday by the sea of Italy?' Roderich said. 'Well, I met Elizabeta there. I was in love with her then, and I'm still in love with her today.'

The Count of Edelstein looked at his brother. 'Mmm, I see,' he said slowly. 'Well, brother, remember she is only an opera singer. We know nothing about her family.'

But Roderich did not listen. To him, good families were not important, and young men never listen to their younger brothers.

There were many people in Elizabeta Héderváry's dressing-room that night. But there was a doctor with Elizabeta, and her beautiful face looked white and ill. Roderich went quickly across the room and took her hand.

'Elizabeta! What's the matter? Are you ill?' He went down on the floor by her chair. 'Don't you remember me - Roderich Edelstein, in Italy?'

Elizabeta looked at him, and her green eyes were afraid. She took her hand away. 'No, I don't know you. Please go away. I'm not well.'

Roderich stood up, his face red. Before he could speak, the doctor said quickly, 'Yes, yes, please go away. Everybody, please leave the room. Lady Héderváry needs to be quiet. She is very tired.'

He moved to the door, and soon everybody left the room. Elizabeta Héderváry was alone in her dressing-room.

Outside in the passage the young Viscount was angry and unhappy. How could Elizabeta forget him? How could she say that to him? He waited for some minutes, then, very quietly and carefully, he went back to the door of her dressing-room. But he did not open the door, because just then he heard _a man's voice_ in the room!

'Elizabeta, you must love me!' the voice said.

Then Roderich heard Elizabeta's voice. 'How can you talk like that? When I sing only for you...? Tonight, I gave everything to you, everything. And now I'm so tired.' Her voice was unhappy and afraid.

'You sang like an angel,' the man's voice said.

Roderich walked away. So that was the answer! Elizabeta Héderváry had a lover. But why was her voice so unhappy? He waited in the shadows near her room. He wanted to see her lover - his enemy!

After about ten minutes Elizabeta came out of her room, alone, and walked away down the passage. Roderich waited, but no man came out after her. There was nobody in the passage, so Roderich went quickly up to the door of the dressing-room, opened it and went in. He closed the door quietly behind him, then called out:

'Where are you? I know you're in here. Come out.' There was no answer. Roderich looked everywhere - under the chairs, behind all the clothes, in all the dark corners of the room. There was nobody there.


	4. The Phantom is angry

That was Tuesday night. On Wednesday morning Mr Arthur and Monsieur Francis were happy men. Europe liked the new Margarita - everything in life was good. The next opera night was Friday. It was Faust again, but this time - with Isabella Fernández Carriedo singing Margarita.

By Wednesday afternoon they were not so happy. A second letter arrived for them - from O.G.

 _Why don't you listen to me? I am getting angry. Leave Box 5 free for me. And where are my 20,000 euros? On Friday Héderváry must sing Margarita again. She is now the best singer in Europe. Isabella Fernández Carriedo cannot sing - she has a very ugly voice, like a toad._

 _Remember, I am a bad enemy. OG._

'So, Francis, is this still a joke?' Mr Arthur was steaming. 'What are we going to do now, hm? Is O.G. the director here, or are we?'

'Don't be so cranky, Arthur,' said Monsieur Francis tiredly. 'I don't know the answers. Let's talk to Madame Zwingli, the doorkeeper of Box 5. Perhaps she can help us.'

But Madame Zwingli was not helpful. Madame Zwingli was not afraid of ghosts, and she was not afraid of directors of Opera Houses.

'People say that you're a friend of the Opera ghost, Madame Zwingli,' Mr Arthur began. 'Tell us about him. Some people say he has no head.'

'And some people say he has no body,' said Monsieur Francis. 'What do you say, Madame Zwingli?'

Madame Zwingli looked at the two men and laughed. 'I say that the directors of the Opera House are fools!'

'What!' Mr Arthur stood up. Normally, he wouldn't be this impolite. But all these ghost rumours really stressed him out. 'Listen, Madame-'

'Oh, sit down, Arthur, and listen,' said Monsieur Francis. 'Why do you say that, Madame Zwingli?'

'Because, Monsieur, the Opera ghost is angry with you. When the ghost wants something, he must have it. He is clever and dangerous, this ghost. The old directors before you, they knew that, oh yes. At first they tried to stop him. Then there were many accidents in the Opera House, many strange accidents. And when did these accidents happen? When the ghost was angry! So, the old directors learnt very quickly. The ghost wants Box 5? He can have it every night. The ghost wants money? Let's give the money to him at once. Oh yes, the old directors understood very well.'

'But _we_ are the directors, not the Opera ghost.' Mr Arthur was impatient. He turned to Monsieur Francis. 'This is outrageous. Why should we listen to this lady? On Friday night Isabella Fernández Carriedo is going to sing Margarita. And you and I, Francis, are going to watch the opera from Box 5.'

'Well, we can try that, Arthur. But we don't want any accidents.'

Madame Zwingli came nearer to the two men. 'Listen to me,' she said quietly. 'Remember Joseph Buquet? I tell you, the Opera ghost is a good friend, but a bad enemy.'

The two men stared at her. 'Those words,' Monsieur Francis said slowly, 'why did you say those words, Madame Zwingli?'

'Because the ghost says them to me. I never see him, but I often hear him. He has a very nice voice.'


	5. A letter for Roderich

That Wednesday a letter also arrived for the young Viscount of Edelstein. He opened the letter, saw the name at the bottom, and smiled for the first time that day.

 _Dear Roderich,_

 _Of course I remember you! How could I forget you? Meet me on Thursday at three o'clock in the Tuileries Gardens. Don't be angry with me, Roderich, please._

 _Elizabeta Héderváry_

Roderich put the letter carefully into his pocket. Angry? How could he be angry with an angel? On Thursday he was in the Tuileries Gardens by two o'clock.

At ten past three he began to feel unhappy. At half past three he wanted to die.

And then...she came. She ran through the gardens to him, and in a second she was in his arms.

'Oh, Elizabeta!' he said, again and again. 'Oh Elizabeta!' They walked through the gardens together and talked for along time. They remembered their happy weeks in Italy, four years ago.

'But why did you go away, Elizabeta?' Roderich asked. 'Why didn't you write to me?'

For a minute or two Elizabeta said nothing. Then she said slowly, 'We were so young, you and I. I was just a poor singer from Hungary, and you...you were the Viscount of Edelstein. I knew I could never be your wife.'

'But I love you, Elizabeta-'

'No, shh. Listen to me, Roderich, please. I went home to Hungary, and a year later, my father died. I was very unhappy, but I came back to the Opera House. I worked and worked at my singing, because I wanted to be an opera singer. Not just a good singer, but the best opera singer in Europe.'

'And now you are,' Roderich said. He smiled. 'All Europe is at your feet.'

Elizabeta turned her face away and said nothing.

'Elizabeta,' Roderich said quietly. 'I want to ask you a question. Who was the man in your dressing-room on Tuesday night? Tell me, please!'

Elizabeta stopped and stared at him. Her face went white. 'What man?' she whispered. 'There was no man in my dressing-room on Tuesday night.'

Roderich put his hand on her arm. 'I heard him,' he said. 'I listened outside the door and heard a man's voice. Who was he?'

'Don't ask me, Roderich! There was a man's voice, yes, but there was no man in my room! It's true! Oh, Roderich, I'm so afraid. Sometimes I want to die.'

'Who is he? Tell me, Elizabeta, please. I'm your friend, I can help you. Tell me his name.'

'I cannot tell you his name. It's a secret,' whispered Elizabeta. 'I never see him, I only hear his voice. But he is everywhere! He sees everything, hears everything. That's why I didn't speak to you on Tuesday night. He is my music teacher, Roderich. He's a wonderful singer. I sang so well on Tuesday night because of him. I am famous because of him. He is my angel of music! And he says he loves me. How can I leave him?'


	6. Chiara sings Margarita

On Friday morning Chiara had her breakfast in bed. She drank her coffee and opened her morning letters. One letter had no name on it. It was very short.

 _You are ill. You cannot sing Margarita tonight. Stay at home and don't go to the Opera House. Accidents can happen. Do you want to lose your voice - forever?_

Chiara was very, very angry. She got out of bed at once and did not finish her breakfast.

'This is from Elizabeta Héderváry's friends,' she thought. 'They want her to sing again tonight. That Héderváry girl is going to be sorry for this! I, Chiara, _I_ am the best opera singer in Europe. And nothing is going to stop me singing Margarita tonight.'

At six o'clock that evening the dancers were in their dressing room. They talked and laughed and put on their red and black dresses for Faust. But Elise Zwingli was very quiet.

'What's the matter, Elise?' Laura Maes asked.

'It's the Opera ghost,' Elise said. 'My mother says he's angry. She's afraid that something's going to happen tonight.'

'Oh, pooh!' the girl with white hair said. 'Who's afraid of an old ghost?'

An hour later Mr Arthur and Monsieur Francis went into Box 5 and sat down. They were not afraid of ghosts. Of course not. There were no ghosts in the Opera House.

Then Mr Arthur saw some flowers on the floor by the door of the box. 'Francis,' he whispered, 'did you put those flowers there?'

Monsieur Francis looked. 'No, I didn't,' he whispered back. 'Did you?'

'Of course not, you fool! Shh, the music's beginning.'

Chiara did not sing for the first hour. There were no strange voices in Box 5, and the two directors began to feel happier. Then Chiara came out onto the stage, and Monsieur Francis looked at Mr Arthur.

'Did you hear a voice just then?' he asked quietly.

'No.' Mr Arthur said, but he looked behind him twice, then three times, and suddenly felt cold.

Chiara sang and sang, and nothing happened. Then she began a beautiful love song.

'My love begins to - Co-ack!'

Everybody stared. What was the matter with Chiara's voice? What was that strange noise - 'Co-ack'?

Chiara stopped and began the song again.

'My love begins to - Co-ack!

I cannot forget my - Co-ack!'

It was the noise of a road! People began to talk and laugh. Monsieur Francis put his head in his hands. Then he felt Mr Arthur's hand on his arm. There was a voice in the box with them! A man's voice, laughing!

Poor Chiara tried again, and again.

'I cannot forget my - Co-ack!'

Then the two directors heard the voice again, behind them, in front of them, everywhere. _'Her singing tonight is going to bring down the chandelier!'_

The two directors looked up at the top of the Opera House. Their faces were white. The famous chandelier, with its thousand lights, broke away from its ropes and crashed down on to the people below.

That was a terrible night for the Opera House. One woman was killed by the chandelier, and many people were hurt. The Opera House closed for two weeks. And Chiara never sang again (luckily, she can dance).


	7. My angel of music

For a week Roderich saw Elizabeta every day. Some days Elizabeta was quiet and unhappy, some days she laughed and sang. She never wanted to talk about the Opera House, or her singing, or Roderich's love for her. Roderich was very afraid for her. Who, or what, was this strange teacher, this man's voice, her 'angel of music'?

Then one day there was no Elizabeta. She was not at her home, not at the Opera House, not at their meeting places. Roderich looked everywhere and asked everybody. Where was Elizabeta Héderváry? But nobody knew.

Two days before the Opera House opened again, a letter arrived for Roderich. It was from Elizabeta.

 _Meet me in an hour at the top of the Opera House, on the tenth floor._

The tenth floor of the Opera House was a dangerous place. There were hundreds of ropes going down to the stage below - it was a long, long way down.

Roderich and Elizabeta sat in a dark corner, and Roderich took Elizabeta's hands. Her face was white and tired.

'Listen, Roderich,' she said quietly. 'I'm going to tell you everything. But this is our last meeting. I can never see you again.'

'No, Elizabeta!' Roderich cried. 'I love you, and we-'

'Shh! Quietly! Perhaps he can hear us. He's everywhere in the Opera House, Roderich!'

'Who? What are you talking about, Elizabeta?'

'My angel of music. I couldn't meet you last Saturday because he came for me, and took me away. I was in my dressing-room in the Opera House and suddenly, he was there in front of me! I saw the voice for the first time! He wore black evening clothes and a mask over his face. He took me through many secret doors and passages, down, down under the Opera House. There is a lake down there, a big lake; the waters are black and cold. He took me across the lake in a boat to his house. He lives there, Roderich, in a house on the lake, under the Opera House!'

Roderich stared at her. Was his beautiful Elizabeta mad? Elizabeta saw his face, and said quickly:

'It's true, Roderich, it's true! And he...he is the Phantom of the Opera! But he's not a ghost, he's not an angel of music, he's a man! His name is Gilbert, and he loves me, he wants me to be his wife! No, Roderich, listen, there is more. He told me all this in his house, in a beautiful room. He said that no woman could ever love him, because of his face. He was so unhappy! Then he took off his mask, and I saw his face.'

She began to cry, and Roderich put his arms around her.

'Oh Roderich, he has the most terrible face! It is so ugly! I wanted to scream and run away. But where could I run to? He has the face of a dead man, Roderich, but he is not dead! He has no nose, just a big hole in his ghostly white face. And his eyes! One is a black hole, the other one has a terrible red colour...' (Illustration in chapter IV: The Phantom is Angry)

She put her face in her hands for a second. Then she said, 'I stayed in his house for five days. He was very good to me, and I felt sorry for him, Roderich. He wants me to love him, and I told him...I told him...'

'No, Elizabeta, no! You're going to be my wife. Come away with me at once, today! You can't go back to him.'

'But I must,' Elizabeta said quietly. 'He knows about you, Roderich. He knows about us. He says he's going to kill you. I must go back to him.'

'Never.' said Roderich. 'I love you, Elizabeta, and I'm going to kill this Gilbert!'

Gilbert...Gilbert...Gilbert...Gilbert... The word whispered round the Opera House. Roderich and Elizabeta stared.

'What was that?' Roderich said, afraid. 'Was that...his voice? Where did it come from?'

'I'm afraid, Roderich,' Elizabeta whispered. 'I'm singing Margarita again on Saturday. What's going to happen?'

'This,' Roderich said. 'After the opera on Saturday night, you and I are going away together. Come on, let's go down now. I don't like it up here.'

They went carefully along a dark passage to some stairs, then suddenly stopped. There was a man in front of them, a tall man in a long dark coat and a black hat. He turned and looked at them.

'No, not these stairs,' he said. 'Go to the stairs at the front. And go quickly!'

Elizabeta turned and ran. Roderich ran after her.

'Who was that man?' he asked.

'It's the Persian,' Elizabeta answered.

'But who is he? What's his name? Why did he tell us to go to the front stairs?'

'Nobody knows his name. He's just the Persian. He's always in the Opera House. I think he knows about Gilbert, but he never talks about him. Perhaps he saw Gilbert on those stairs, and wanted to help us.'

Hand in hand, they ran quickly down the stairs, through passages, then more stairs and more passages. At one of the little back doors to the Opera House, they stopped.

'On Saturday night, then. After the opera,' Roderich said. 'I'm going to take you away, and marry you.'

Elizabeta looked up into his face. 'Yes, Roderich.'

Then they kissed, there by the door of the Opera House. Their first kiss.


End file.
